Family Strong
One-shot
Reader's POV (Gender: Feminine)
Thunder cracks outside your window. You wrap your thick quilt around your body, curled into a tiny ball, and sigh. You know you're not getting any sleep with this storm raging outside.
You reach for your phone which is plugged in to the charger on your nightstand. Maybe a game will help take your mind off the storm.
After killing about sixty small birds of varying colors, you toss your phone back on the small table. The dinging sound was getting pretty annoying anyway.
The floor creaks in the hallway. Your eyes snap to the door and you instinctively pull the blankets to your chin.
"Wow, I'm such a wuss." You mumble to yourself.
The creaking continues. It seems that it's moving to different rooms.
"It's just the house settling or something." You tell yourself, but your heart is pounding.
You finally get up the courage to investigate. Throwing off the blankets, you swallow down your irrational fear and tiptoe across the wooden floor of your bedroom. You open the door, just a crack, and peer into the hallway. It's pitch-black, save for the small light your aunt keeps in the bathroom.
A shadow moves across the wall of the hallway. You gasp, shutting your door quietly and pressing your back to the wall.
Aunt Alice has the nightshift.
Before you realize what's happening, before any normal person could possibly understand what just happened, you hear a loud noise, the sound of shrieking metal and splintering wood, and your door is crashing into your dresser.
A small squeaking noise escapes your throat. A woman, dressed in relatively normal clothes, steps into your view.
She smirks. "Little. Baby. Winchester."
"Huh?" Your voice is hoarse.
Her eyes fade to coal black. You take in a sharp breath, trying to move backward, hoping to sink into the wall.
"You're a Winchester." Her high voice is laced with venom.
"Um... Not to be d-disrespectful... but the last time I checked, I'm a person, not a handgun."
She raises her hand, palm toward you. You feel your back start to slide up the wall. Your feet dangle beneath you, no longer touching the floor.
"Your daddy!" She screeches out. "John Winchester!"
"Yeah, my dad's name is John, but my last name is Warren!" You yell back.
There's a loud sound near the front of your house. You hear hushed male voices move through the hallway. You try to call out but find that you're unable to use your voice. No sound comes out as you try to scream for help. Maybe the police are here to get the PCP crazed chick out of my house. Or so you hope.
As you look back into your room you realize the woman is gone. A man steps in carefully, holding a gun out in front of him. You slam to the floor, hard, and hit your side off of the desk by your bed on the way down.
You gasp for breath. There's only a little air reaching your lungs and you're starting to panic. The guy picks you up, cradling you in his arms. "Oh God, I don't know what to – What's – I can't – Sammy!"
You grasp at your throat with one hand, gathering your strength to point toward your night table.
Another guy comes in, Sammy you guess, and throws the drawers open.
"In-haler." You sputter.
He scrambles through all the junk and pulls out the small red plastic piece. He hands it to the man holding you, who puts it to your lips and presses down on the top. You inhale deeply and hope the medication, that you haven't even needed in ages, still works.
It does.
"Who are you?" You ask, taking small breaths to make sure you could still breathe right.
"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean." The tall guy sits on the edge of your bed where the other one, Dean, had laid you.
"What was that thing? What did it want?"
They exchange a glance. Dean shakes his head. "You wouldn't believe us if we told you."
"Try me."
"Well, it was a demon."
You laugh. "You're right. I don't believe you. But thanks for saving my life."
"Do you know why it was here?" Sam questions.
You shrug. "She kept calling me a 'Winchester.'"
Dean's face goes pale under the moonlight.
"My dad's name was John." You mumble. "But like I told her, my last name is Warren. Not Winchester."
After Sam gives me a brief description of what I know to be my dad, I nod. "Have you met my dad before?"
He nods his head, too. "Except you're not a Warren. John Winchester is your father. And he's ours, too."
I swallow hard. "So I'm... Your sister?"
Dean lets out a breath. "Well, welcome to the family."